


where the spring should have been

by ashen_key



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Backstory, Child Soldier, Comics Influenced Backstory, Friendship, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Non Archive Warning In Notes, Unreliable Narrator, War, Word War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 01:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashen_key/pseuds/ashen_key
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three moments in Stalingrad during the Great Patriotic War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where the spring should have been

**Author's Note:**

> Originally conceived of as backstory for a Natasha-as-the-Winter-Soldier AU, but it works equally well for a future Black Widow who was born in the late twenties. See end notes for further notes and warnings. Title comes from Thea Gilmore's song “This Girl Is Taking Bets”: _this girl is the snowfall where the spring should have been_

i.

 

“ _...attacked our country without making any claims on the Soviet Union and withou-_ ”

“-wait, go back!”

“Volya, you're so stupid, get it _work_ -”

“Shut up! We've found it.”

“ _Our cause is just. The enemy will be beaten. We will be victorious_.” 

Natasha's chest was tight and all of her blood had retreated from her face, she could _feel_ it. “Hitler invaded,” she said. Which was stupid, everyone had just heard it over the wireless, but saying it didn't make it any more real.

“Shit.” Lyosha rubbed his mouth while Lyuba just had her hands pressed to hers. Volya was still staring at his parents' wireless, and little Talya just looked confused. 

“But, I don't understand.”

“We're at war,” Volya told his sister. 

“What....are we going to do?” Talya asked, looking as if she was going to cry.

“I know what I'm going to do,” Lyosha said. “I'm enlisting.” 

“You can't!” Natasha stared at him. “You're only fifteen, _remember_.”

“I'll lie,” Lyosha announced. “Anyone coming with me?”

“I'm coming,” Volya said, slowly, and there was a look on his face that Natasha had never seen before. 

“Me too,” Lyuba burst out. “I can be a nurse.”

“You'll have nothing to do, because we're going to win.” Lyosha grinned at her. 

Natasha and Talya trailed along the group as they left the Koltsovs' apartment, Natasha holding the younger girl's hand. They nearly collided with Ivan Petrovich at the landing of the first floor, and they both jumped back.

“Nataliya Alianovna, Nataliya Vladimirovna,” he said, regarding them with sharp eyes. “What has you pack of puppies so excited?”

“We're going to win a war!” Talya's voice was higher with normal, and far too excited. Natasha just nodded, resisting the urge to step in front of her. Stupid Talya; he was an informant, everyone knew that. 

“Win a war?” Old shrapnel-scars marked Ivan Petrovich's face, and twisted his faint smile into something not very nice. 

“Hitler invaded us, Ivan Petrovich. The Foreign Minster just announced it,” Natasha explained, very politely. “They've gone to try and enlist.” Nothing wrong with being patriotic and eager. It was nothing that Volya, Lyosha and Lyuba could get into trouble for, and Natasha was very loudly believing that with every fibre in her body. 

He grunted, and then just brushed past them to continue stomping up the stairs. Natasha waited until she could no longer see him, and then she and Talya ran all the rest of the way to catch up with the others. She really didn't think the recruitment centre would accept _any_ of them, but it was such a lovely day, and the war was so very, very far away. It didn't feel _real_ , despite the nervous way her stomach was knotting up. And Hitler's armies had conquered nearly all of Europe...

Natasha shook her head, taking herself in hand. The Red Army would stop the Germans in no time. But in the meantime, catching the tram into the centre of Stalingrad was something to do other than read. 

 

ii.

 

“ _Attention, comrades, an air-raid warning has been sounded in the city. Comrades, an air-raid warning-_ ”

“Oh, not another one,” Mama muttered. “Natasha, I really wish you hadn't stayed in the bookstore so long. We could have caught the previous tram and not spend all of this time _walking_.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but before she could restrain herself from snapping an answer, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Mama, what's that sound?” 

Her mother turned her head towards the edge of the city, slightly cocking her head to the side. Then her eyes widened, which they _never_ did. Ksenija Leonidovna kept her expressions to herself, and Natasha stared at her. 

“...the anti-aircraft guns. We have to get inside. Now!”

The planes were visible in the sky, and the black dots they were dropping were almost graceful. Natasha had two seconds to stare in horrified fascination before her mother grabbed her arm and dragged her down the street until she started to run under her own power. 

They had to run towards the planes. Their apartment building was the next street over, and they had to run _towards the planes_ to get to cover when everything in Natasha wanted to run in the opposite direction. She swallowed the urge to scream, to tear herself away and try and outrun the planes. Then she looked up. 

“Ma-” she gasped, twisting her hand to pull Mama back just before a bombs hit the building two down. Mama shoved her down into the wall and covered her when the explosion hit. 

She had never felt anything like it, and when she could feel wet on her face. Blood from where she had bitten her lip, tears from the sobbing that she wasn't even trying to stop. The building next to her was shaking, and all she could do was cling to her mother. 

The bombing became more distant, and they slowly got to their feet, Mama hissing with pain as she did so. Natasha was bleeding from more than just her lip, the cuts on her back and her limbs all stinging as she moved. 

“You're alright, darling?” Mama said, holding Natasha's face carefully. Natasha nodded, and then she stopped.

“The guns are starting again. Mama.” There was blood staining her mother's grey hair from where she'd been cut by flying debris, and she was favouring her right leg. She looked older, as if she'd aged even in the last minute. 

“Natasha. Nataliya. Listen to me. _Listen_. Go to the store. Bezukhov's cellar is better than home. It's a smaller building. I'm getting your father, and we'll meet you there. Understood?”

“No, mama, come with me, please-”

“Nataliya Alianovna, go.” 

There was smoke, and the fires were spreading, and Natasha was shaking her head. She couldn't leave Mama, Mama wasn't well and she was _Mama_ -

Then Natasha cried out, stumbling back and holding her cheek from where Mama had slapped her. 

“Stupid girl! Run. _Now._ ”

The planes were getting louder and, hesitating for a second, Natasha fled. She was faster now, her dress whipping her legs as she ran down the street, leaving her mother behind as their city continued to explode into fire. 

 

iii.

 

“I swear, if they don't change the music, I'm shooting the loudspeaker,” Saitov muttered, and then he swore as someone hit him. At least, that's what Natasha guessed had happened – she was standing with the battalion political officer the next room over and could hear everything. Outside the ruined building, the tinny sound of the tango played and played. As it had been playing for weeks. 

Commissar Ulyanov smiled briefly, and Natasha just concentrated on trying to get the ice on her eyelashes to melt. She had her hand pressed over her left eye, and was hoping that there was enough warmth left in her body to do anything. 

“So. Nataliya Alianovna or Nataliya Ivanovna?”

She frowned slightly, cautious. “Both, Comrade Commissar. Um. My father was Alian, but Ivan Petrovich has been looking out for me. He's-” Uncle Ivan taught her how to survive, and he taught her how to kill. He gave her too much of the rations he picked up. “Another father.” 

Ulyanov nodded, lighting up a cigarette. “They talk about you.” He blew out smoke, but not in her face. “News has a way of...spreading.”

Natasha froze, unable to swallow let alone move her hand. 

“Most battalions,” Ulyanov went on, almost idly, “squadrons with children, they are just....spies. Or scavenging for food. Or mascots. But you, you've been bringing back dog-tags, Nataliya Ivanovna. That interests me.” 

“Com-comrade Commissar?”

He paused, and this time his smile was kind. “Here, girl, take this.” He held out a bar of chocolate, and it was food, and now she could move, darting in and then forcing herself to take it slowly. 

“Thank you.” 

“So, tell me, Comrade Romanova, where do you get the dog-tags?”

Natasha nibbled the end of the chocolate, forcing herself to swallow. “I kill Germans. Sometimes. So, I take the dog-tags, and they...so they know it was not an accident.” 

“You wouldn't lie to me?”

She shook her head. 

“Good.” He took another drag from his cigarette, still inspecting her. The kind smile flashed back. “I want you to do something for me. I want you to kill a Nazi soldier. You have two days, but I want his dog-tags.”

“Any...anyone?”

“Any. You see, from what the soldiers say, you have a talent. A gift. You can creep around unseen, and you can kill those you come across. This brings your battalion hope, and everyone they talk to you. Did you know that?”

She shook her head again, less violently than before. She was too scared to be angry, but she thought that she _should_ be angry. She didn't want anyone talking about her and bringing her _attention_. 

Attention, whispered a little voice in her head, comes with chocolate. And hope was _helping_. 

Natasha nibbled the bar some more as Ulyanov continued.

“If you bring our soldiers hope, then you also bring another bit of fear to the barbarians are our door. And I don't like seeing things go to waste.” His smile was still kind, but Natasha wasn't sure if she believed it. “So. You bring me a dog-tag, a new one. And I have a project in mind for you. You want to help the Motherland, don't you, Comrade Romanova?”

Even before she opened her mouth to speak, she was nodding. “Yes! Yes, I do.” 

“Good. Bring me that dog-tag. You're dismissed,” he added, as if she were a proper soldier and not just a kid. Natasha saluted him, and then ran off. She stopped as soon as she reached the street, glancing up at the sky and listening out for planes. Hearing none, she kept running, and she moved, the sinister tango on the loudspeakers was replaced by German. She knew enough by now to work out what the message said: _surrender, your position is hopeless, you are going to die_. 

She'd share the rest of the chocolate, she thought. Then she would take her knife, and go hunting through her city for that next set of dog-tags.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: parent hitting child (not in punishment or abuse - to startle child into leaving danger), depiction of being bombed 
> 
> “Lyosha” is a reference to Alexei Shostakov, Natasha's comics Russian husband (and the Soviet version of Captain America), and Ivan Petrovich is also taken from Natasha's comics background. The Alianovna vs Ivanovna was inspired by Natasha sometimes being Ivanovna early in her comics appearances until Alianovna settled. 
> 
> Historical information and quotes have been taken from Antony Beevor's book _Stalingrad_ and the absolutely-never-ever-wrong internet.


End file.
